You Will Be the Death of Me
by Immortal Shade
Summary: Eight years later in America, Gemma decides once and for all what must be done.
1. Chapter 1

**So I read through Libba's LJ answers, and I suppose I feel a **_**tad**_** better about Kartik's death. I mean, I don't feel **_**good**_** about it per se, but I've received a bit of closure from it. That isn't to say I'm still not miserable though; oh yes, I'm still quite. And what does that mean? It means you get another angsty Karma story. I apologize. Truly, I do.**

In the blink of an eye, eight years have passed. Eight empty years in this new world where I had originally intended to live a new life as a newborn phoenix. I had wished for the cleansing of my past; to purge my mind of the boundless array of painful memories. But even I, the grand priestess, can not bid the memories farewell. Instead, they have continued to haunt me daily, clawing at my existence every waking –and unwaking second.

All these years, I have been facing my nightmares in a perpetual battle, hoping desperately for a way to façade my identity from myself. But the battle has long been lost, I'm afraid. I am defeated… drained to the last silver drop, for the only lining of my clouds now is the smoke from chimney tops. Black as remorse and death.

It has not always been like this. Oh no, I was once a lively soul, eager for the start of each new day. I hungered for the rising of the sun and moon. I thirsted for greater knowledge –to be seen as intelligent in this masculine-driven society. My journey to America had a purpose of establishing a new individuality and to make my mark in the world. It was the least I could do for him…

Yet even in America, the land of all dreams, social hierarchy existed. And despite the significant inheritance to my name, my reputation as a single, unmarried, and unknown lady earned me little standing. It was little better than the country I deserted, and I often wondered why I left in the first place.

I was crushed. My dreams began to scatter. And the lack of sociable company drove me to near insanity. At such a vulnerable state, the nightmares commenced. I was in the mercy of my past.

Then it came –my light. My hope. My knight in shining armour; or rather, in this case my knight_ess_. Adelaide was her name, a woman of five years my senior. She was an honourable lady, also the owner of a cozy apartment in Binghamton, New York. Her husband worked as an editor of a publishing company in the state.

It was Adelaide who lifted me out of my pits of despair and helped me see my own potential. She invited me into her apartment and offered me a space of my own in her estate. She was like a mother to me. Like the mother I have always dreamed of since the death of my own. And under her guidance, I enrolled in Binghamton University as an English student.

I was not surprised to see that most of my classmates were male. They, however, did not share my lack of surprise, and made it their full-time duty to ridicule and denounce me. Several instances, I was at the height of my temptation to bestow some sort of nasty magic on the testosterone bunch, just to show them the extent of my power. But doing so would have exposed me; I would be found out. Moreover, it would have triggered the reforging of my past, and _that_ was something I wasn't keen on rekindling. So, I ignored them. I ignored their threats to make my life "living hell", though I dare not say it to their face that they have not experience hell as I have. For once, I acted my part as a lady, and focused only on my responsibilities rather than meddling in other affairs.

As it turned out, my grades were quite satisfactory compared to theirs. This earned me both recognition and praise from the headmaster. According to him, I was an exemplary student, and would no doubt have a promising future as a writer. For once, I was the model student. And I was ecstatic.

They say that the rich often flock to the richer. In my case, this was certainly true. My exceptional grades made me rich, and soon, I was being befriended by all. Even the men, who previously hurled negative remarks at me on a daily basis, began to turn to me for companionship and advice. I was wooed with flowers, sweets, and invitations. And although I was fluttering like a butterfly emotionally, something in my head was persistently cautioning me about the new behaviour of those around me. It was a feeling I could easily identity, as it was very familiar, having felt it long ago back in Spence. I could not help but fear that they loved me for my power –my talents.

Slowly, I drifted away from my peers and sought comfort from books and literature instead. My skills in composition grew further; and at the end of my four year education, I graduated with honours of distinction. He would have been proud, I'm sure.

Adelaide could not be happier for my accomplishment, and immediately bade me write an article for her husband's company. Naturally, it was accepted. I was well on my way to establishing my career, my own path in life.

It was then that my life began to crumble apart. Adelaide, who was with child at the time, had an unfortunate stumble on the stairs. Her water broke early.

At the end, it was a miscarriage. Both mother and child were lost to the graves.

There was absolutely no time to brace for the second blow. My brother's usual flawless script was scratchy and shaky to the point of illegibility. I did not even need to pick through the entire letter to know what had happened. Father's consumption had finally claimed him.

It is now 1904, four years after my father's departure. I still live in Binghamton, in the apartment that hosts Adelaide's eternal spirit. I sit at my desk by the window and gaze out at the citizens on the streets. So many people without a single care, without a burden. They live according to society's rules. They live a sheltered envelope, only feeling what they should feel, not what they _can_ feel. They do not know their limits, for they have not journeyed as far as I have to experience them. They are visionless people, blinded by their immersion in the material world. They do not know what it is like to see, for they have never seen, and they _shall _never see.

I wish I can gift them with sight; but to do so would also bring about their doom. For this gift of mine, it is both great and terrible. A gift… and a curse. I shall not curse my fellow Americans. They love their carefree nature. They are not yet ready to see.

I move my gaze back to the typewriter before me. The keys wait for my command. They need direction to function, just as society does. I offer my guidance, and the worlds blot onto the crisp white sheet in black. The ink is running thin; but it does not matter, for the story is almost at its end. _My_ story is almost at its end.

Finally, my nimble fingers tap the keys in an ending stroke. This is my flourish, but there shall be no encore.

The inked page is set on the pile of papers at the side. These pages hold the history of my life. Of fears and desires, of friendships and jealousy, of love and hate, _of life and death_…

It contains the story of four girls, each damaged by a gift so great and terrible that it consumed them, cursing them to run loose from society's bondage. It is a story of the power of knowledge, and how it drove these girls to rebel at an attempt to find their own paths and identities. But most of all, the story is governed by the passion and longing of the one thing beyond each person's reach –destiny. Once discovered, it truly is a remarkable thing. It guides us to our true nature and helps us fulfill our sweet calling.

This is my calling. This is the mark I shall leave in the world –these pages of knowledge. And whoever reads it shall have a choice: to believe or not to believe in it. It is this choice that separates truth from wonder, and I have offered this choice to others.

I stand up from my seat and stride into the kitchen, my teacup in hand. The tea is still warm and barely touched. But alas, an ingredient is amiss.

In the kitchen, I search under the sink for the brown bottle. It is there, half empty from years of use against the pesky rodents that infest the grounds. I clutch it tightly and bring it to the counter where the cup is set. Time seems to stop as I fill the cup to the rim then stir the mixture. The liquid soon becomes one, and once satisfied, I carry it with me to my bedroom.

My breathing quickens as the moment draws ever nearer to my nocturnal avenue. I sit in the centre of my bed and relieve myself of my corset and the pins that adorn my fiery tresses. They are the last items that still constrain my being. And as my bosom swells with relief and my hair tumbles down in a scorching mane, I am content... for I shall leave freely.

A single tear rolls down my cheek. Inevitability awaits. In one swift motion, the cup is at my lips and the poison down my throat. I cough and sputter. My body gags in refusal and protest, but I force it down.

The effects are immediate. The labels on the bottle live true to their word. My lungs feel ready to burst, and this coaxes me to lie down. I curl into a ball, now letting the tears flow freely.

I have always wondered what one thinks about when dying. Now I know. My mind swims through a slideshow of memories. _The spices of India… my father's warm chuckles… Ann's voice… Felicity's naked skin… Miss McCleethy's unclosed eyes… the lips of a certain Gypsy…_

I think of him last. He was the first to believe in me. Believing in me was also the last thing he did. His brother once told him _"you will be the death of her"_, but how ironic it had turned out for him to leave first. Well perhaps, it has now come to the day that karma unleashes her merciless fury on us, and I do not resent it at all.

And as if beckoned, his face appears in my mind. He is smiling as he always does. His hair is as unkempt as ever. Funny how in these last few seconds, he is what I think of. Suddenly, death does not scare me anymore.

In one final breath, I utter the word that has been hidden under years of sorrow, "Kartik…"

And just like that, the magic is gone.

Or is it?

**So what do you think?**

**Writing this was an emotional rollercoaster for me. My heart actually sped up and slowed down at the critical moments just as Gemma's would have. Anyway, I intend to end with another chapter… but it depends on how motivated I am.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm starting to feel better about Kartik's death. So after this fic, hopefully I can get into the mood for some more uplifting stories. Currently, I'm planning out an OOC Karma fic involving mood swings and therapy... Wheee!**

_Row row row your boat..._

Yes, keep rowing. I must keep rowing until I reach the end of the world. Muscles may ache, and sweat may pool, but still I must row into the horizonless distance. There lies my final destination. My resting place, where I may be burdenless for all eternity.

_Row row row..._

And in this gathering mist, a light shines ahead. It is but a flicker on the distant shore, like the flame of a lighthouse beckoning wayward sailors, ushering them into her dock with the essence of a cradling mother. For that is where they belong. That is where they shall rest.

To me, the light is an invitation. An invitation to the promise of eternal bliss in the arms of angels. Even beneath my closed eyelids, it shines with the brightness of all that I have ever wanted, all that I have hoped for. And just as I was the hope for my world, this light is my signal of hope. Of a place even more beautiful than the conjurable Realms. It is my flame of hope.

_...Gently down the stream..._

Slowly yet surely, I drift down the boundless sea of mist. I drift towards the shores of promise, contentment, and hope. Towards the sweet far thing that my passing consciousness has always yearned for. My restless soul shall finally find its peace.

I am vaguely aware of a lapping sound. Perhaps it is the water nymphs, curious of the pale red-headed maiden in the unguarded vessel. Perhaps it is the wind, tugging and jostling the side of the boat at an attempt to alter its trajectory and shift my course away from the shores of dreams. No, it is neither, and my eyes open to verify my assumption.

I am dead, and yet I sense. I smell the intoxicating aroma of my past -a delightful mixture of all the memories I hold. I feel the dew droplets on my skin, condensed from the misty surveillance. I hear the continuous lapping and creaking of the wooden boat, forced on by the great pressure of all the hope I bring into this new world. But most important of all, I see a vast sea of mist and shadow, and beyond that, the growing scenery of my final desire.

I become fixated on my course. I no longer care for the pleasures of the past world, for nothing shall compare to what awaits me. It is an adventure; a new journey impatient to be trodden by curious feet. I realize now that death is a path that everyone must take. And though it marks the end of life, it is the gate to something even more magnificent -the beginning of eternity.

My vision blurs as foreign tears rim their way over my green eyes. They are tears of sadness for all the things that might have been; yet at the same time, the tears are of joy for all the great things that shall be. They roll down my cheeks freely, and I make no move to wipe them away.

_...Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily..._

My boat drifts ever closer to my heavenly cemetery. Gradually, the light grows brighter until a sheet of white settles over my vision. The intensity is immense, and try as I might, I can not open my eyes. Suddenly, I feel a great _whoosh_ as my heart plummets into an invisible valley of shadow. The grey curtain of my previous world rolls back and all changes to silver glass. Then it ends. Everything is still. My eyes open, and there I see it. White shores... and beyond. Emerald pastures glistening with the golden hue of a slow sunset. Beyond the horizon, I see opportunity, adventure, and hope. I have passed into the realm of eternity, where nothing is touched by the finite nature of the previous life. It is a timeless and ageless realm, an immortal sanctuary.

But the picturesque setting can not compare to what my eyes witnessed then. There, standing by the shore together, my father and mother wait for me. As the boat draws near, I see that they are smiling at me, hands clasped in each other's just like I have seen back in my childhood days in India.

I can wait no longer. I bound out of the boat and cross the short distance through the silver water until I practically leap into their arms.

"Mother!. Father!.." I throw my arms around both of them and let the waterworks run. The rush of almost a decade of loneliness and uncertainty has finally come to an end. I can let go of all the sorrow, all the heaviness that sank my shivering body to sleep every night. I no longer have to face the nightmares and memories that leave me screaming in a sheen of cold sweat. I can finally love and be loved in return without feeling cautious of these emotions. I am free.

"My Gemma..." I hear my mother say. Oh how I have missed her sweet embrace and soft voice. "You have grown so much..."

My words choke in my mouth. I can not find anything that is worth saying at this moment. I wish it would just last forever, and for once, perhaps my wish _can_ come true.

Apparently, this is not the only wish that has come true. I feel a gentle tug on my shoulder and turn to see my starry-eyed father smiling at me.

"Gemma, I do believe you have a visitor," he says.

I meet his eyes with an inquisitive expression. _Visitor? Here? But I have just arrived. I have just... died._

My father chuckles, "My dear, he has been quite the entertainer for your mother and I these past few years. He... seems to care for you in a way I never thought possible. I... I am happy for you, Gemma."

I suddenly know who this visitor might be. My breath catches as I stare forward in wide-eyed anticipation. Unfortunately, my father misinterprets this and frowns.

"Don't tell me you have already forgotten him. Surely you remember. He was our coachman once, Mr. ..."

I do not need him to speak further, for I have already seen the familiar tuft of black hair beyond my father's broad shoulders. "... Kartik..." I finish for him in a whisper.

My feet suddenly found their strength again and I find myself half-sprinting towards the man I love. He too notices my urgency and comes to me in quick strides. We meet halfway, both breathing heavily, but it is not from the running. I tilt my head upwards to kiss him, but disappointment settles over me when he draws away.

"Don't be hasty, Miss Doyle," he says with a grin, nodding his head towards my parents who are still close-by.

I blush, only then remembering that we are not alone. "Yes, right. How foolish of me." I follow his gaze needlessly to see my father whispering something to mother. I can not make out their earlier sentences, but the last is easily audible.

"Virginia dear, how about a nice long walk along the shore, hmm?" He turns to wink in my direction before steering my mother in the opposite route. Soon, their figures are consumed by the sandy landscape.

Now alone, I turn back to Kartik who is watching me as if memorizing my features. Silently, I do the same to him. My eyes start at his hair -the tousled mess of jet black tresses that I so dearly adore, then move downward to study his chestnut eyes, long dark lashes, high cheeks, and full lips. He has not changed a bit since our bitter parting in the Winterlands, except perhaps he looks less wearisome now, something I am glad for.

The period of silence is broken by a gasp -that of my own. Kartik has encircled me in his arms, clutching me gently to his chest. The scent of his body overwhelms me. It is an aroma of the past, of the present, and most definitely of the future. _Our_future.

I sniff. Another wave of tears are on the rise, and sensing this Kartik brings me closer. My arms are wrapped around him as I hold on desperately, as if fearing he would vanish any second, leaving me alone once more. But he is real. He is here... with me. And nothing can change that. Nothing can penetrate or break this bond we share. We are marked together; a symbol of remaining lovers forever.

"Gemma.. my Gemma," his lips press against my forehead. "What are you thinking?"

What_am _I thinking? That indeed is a very fine question. However the honest truth is that I am not entirely sure right this moment. There does not seem the need to think at all; that is what's so relishing about it.

Therefore, I answer to the best of my ability, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing..."

He takes a moment to ponder my reply, but then I feel his lips curl against my skin; he is smiling. "Funny... I was thinking the same thing."

"What?" I look up at him quizzically. He is still grinning at me, and in his eyes a familiar light twinkles in mischief.

"Ah, but that would mean you _were_thinking," I rebuke, catching on, "for if you really weren't thinking of anything, then you could not possibly be thinking of the same thing, which is nothing."

I am fairly certain I have won this round, but Kartik surprises me with a quick rebuttal. "..Which concludes that you could not have been thinking of 'absolutely nothing' in the first place..."

I open my mouth in protest but am silenced by his lips. There is the hint of a curl, and I wonder if he is still grinning from my previous miscommunication. But that does not matter. Nothing matters now except the soft caress of his lips against mine in a dance of longing and love. The flick of his tongue against my lower lip ushers a moan, and I part my lips to welcome him into my moist cavern.

I am not sure when we came to lie down on the ground or when his shirt was unbuttoned or when my corset loosened. All I know is that somehow our tongues entwined just as our limbs do, while our bodies rock each other in a passionate waltz. The rhythm gradually grows, and our cries of love add to the rising crescendo. We are as one again; as it always should be; as it always _will_ be from now on...

As I watch the sunset from beyond the mortal realm, I realize that death is not as frightening as I had imagined it to be. Nothing is frightening when you are surrounded and loved by those who truly care for you. And though one chapter of my life has ended, many more are soon to come. There is no reason for me to sleep in fear anymore. No reason for me to dream.

For_life is but a dream_, and the dream has ended. My soul is now free to fly in eternity.

"What are you thinking of?"

I turn to face him, and this time there is no hesitancy, "Everything, and more."

**And there you have it folks. May Kartik and Gemma forever rest in peace.**

**Like? Dislike? Was I able to muster some tears from you avid readers? Please do review.**

**And now, just to explain some of my italicized verses. You've probably noticed that I structured this chapter to "Row Row Row your Boat". I did so because I felt that this was indeed a fairytale ending, and every fairytale ending deserves a kids' song. Plus, each line of the song dictated the mood of the particular section. Rowing symbolized Gemma's strength, her determination to cross over, while drifting symbolized her fears and weaknesses, it also demonstrates her willingness to embrace death. Merrily? Well, seeing your loved ones after years of parting IS rather merry, I would think. And finally, I wanted to end on a dreamy state, as if she's just awokened from the dream of life and is ready to step into eternity in a whole new light.**

**Also, I made quite a few references to "Into the West" by Annie Lennox. I tell you, this is THE best song and THE most appropriate song for this chapter. Go listen to it! You'll fall in love with the lyrics.**


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